The Minstrels' Revenge
by Jack Spheniscidae
Summary: Across Italia, Minstrels have suffered Ezio's abuses. And they have had enough - but will numbers be enough to stop Ezio?
1. The Minstrel Carmelo

Venice, 1493

The tale, lost to the ages, began at the square near the Campanile di San Marco and the Basilica. A small crowd was gathering in front of the stage and in the pews where a young minstrel nervously stepped up. His name was Carmelo Fausti da Forli. This was his big night, his debut. Ever since childhood, it had been his dream to become a man of music. His father, and his grandfather before, had all been failed composers. Carmelo could not compose music well, but he made up for that detriment with a spectacular ability of playing the instrument. He likewise was a prodigy with an angelic voice. When he had come of age just a year prior, he had departed the dreary cloud-cast skies of home upon a boat towards beautiful Venezia.

All eyes were upon him. Carmelo, as he readied his lute, looked up towards the red tower. He wondered what it would feel like to be something perhaps like a mighty eagle soaring aloft to heights as great as that and beyond. If everything went right at this performance, perhaps he would be flying up to join that eagle. His benefactor, a trader called Duccio de Luca, was present in the crowd and had been very generous in funding Carmelo's enterprises. He supposed that he would have to be grateful for Duccio's donations, but there seemed to be something shifty about the man. As if de Luca had ulterior motives. No time to worry now. It was time to begin.

He moved his right hand and began to pluck at the strings on the lute. As notes flowed into tunes and harmonies, he opened his mouth and added a beatific watercourse of melodious librettos.

_"There's a signora who's sure all that glitters is oro  
And she's buying a scala to paradiso.  
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed  
With a word she can get what she came for.  
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a sc-"_

"Stop this sciocchezze! I spend a year away from Italia in Spagna and this merda is what has overtaken beautiful Venezia?" Some strange man yelled out. The crowd, which had grown larger, parted to reveal a new arrival that Carmelo did not recognize. The man, with a thin beard visible, hid his head underneath a black hood. Draped around his shoulder was a blue cape, with a gold emblem and a black tip. His body was covered in shining metallic armor, his clothing alternating layers of red, black, and gray. The man was neither the tallest nor bulkiest in the crowd, but he emanated an authoritative aura as he stepped onto the stage with his black boots.

"Cursed minstrels, the great pubblico peste, allowed onto performing stages once populated by Italia's finest actors and performers? I, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, shall not stand for this!" But before the man could act, to Carmelo's relief, many in the crowd began to argue in defense of him.

"He is not ordinary street spazzatura minstrel! This one, Signore Auditore, has a certain fascino to him!" The crier cried out, who had been lured from his usual spot. "Let him play, for he is still young!"

"And why should I do that?"

"Just think of this as a favor for every time me and my fellow criers have taken your bribes and said nothing when you stole our money from us afterwards!"

"Fine." Ezio scowled and crossed his arms. He stepped back. Carmelo breathed a sign of relief, and started playing again. He decided to begin anew with a different song. He observed that even this Ezio had begun to slowly applaud as he played.

_"Mamma, just killed a man,  
Put a stiletto against his gola,  
Moved my hand, now he's dead.  
Mamma, life had just begun,  
But now I've gone and t-"_

He heard a shrill whistle somewhere in the crowd. All of sudden, there was the explosion of several smoke bombs all around the stage! The crowd screamed, and ran away in a frenzied panic.

"What demone's tradimento is this?" Carmelo demanded as his ruined performance began to dawn on him.

But Carmelo had already been forgotten, as the attention shifted. Numerous guards, dressed in the same purple as his benefactor Duccio, were rushing at Ezio with their weapons drawn. Calmly, Ezio lifted his arm and something fired from beneath his sleeves. One of the guards collapsed and as the others surrounded him, he unsheathed a sword.

And defeated them all. Then Ezio noticed something.

"Ah, Duccio. I should have known that you must have had something to do with this. Still sore about that time I beat you for cheating on dear Claudia WITH SIX DIFFERENT WOMEN AT ONCE?" Ezio began to advance towards Duccio stepping over numerous writhing or dead guards, who after witnessing his ambush go awry, was attempting to slip out unnoticed.

"Err… salute Ezio! Bello verdetti!" Duccio was sweating, his face a burning shade of red. "Um… I had nothing to do with this! I was… just in town… in between trips from Roma for… for riposo e relaxtion! Yes! Nothing suspicious here, Ezio! They are wearing purple like me, eh? Coincidence, I say! Nothing but coincidenze!" Duccio continued to step back, his eyes nervously darting all over as if he were looking for a quick route to escape.

"Duccio, you have exactly five secondi to convince me so. And two have just passed." Ezio showed Duccio the hidden blades, popping them in and out in rapid succession.

"Um… um… DIO MIO! THAT MINSTREL OVER THERE JUST INSULTED DEAR CLAUDIA _AND _MARIA!" Duccio frantically pointed, jumping up and down.

"Che cazzo?" Ezio snapped, whirling and glaring at Carmelo.

Duccio continued to jump up and down. "Yes! Yes! That's him! Signore Colpevole standing right in front of you! He called humble Claudia a bastardo puttana and poor Maria unfit to sleep even with the mangiest of cani!"

Ezio snarled and dove at Carmelo. "N-n-n-no! It's all a misunder-" Carmelo sputtered just as Ezio tackled him to the street. Duccio whistled a great chortle of relief, and as Ezio was busily punching Carmelo's face, he hopped to a box near the stage. Many of the onlookers who had been watching Carmelo's performances had donated a sum to the young musician. Duccio looked one last time towards Carmelo, who was being slammed against the walls of the Campanile by Ezio and then scooped all the earnings into his own pouch.

"Perfetto! I love it when a plan goes senza problemi!" Duccio laughed as he walked towards the port where his boat to Roma lay.

Ezio, meanwhile, continued to beat the minstrel and heard, saw none of this.

He could feel blood, scorching and caustic, flowing down the numerous cuts on his forehead. Some of it flowed into his cracked eyes, partially blinding Carmelo. His legs were a dead weight, devoid of all feeling. His right arm was dislocated, and spasms of extreme agony shot through his shoulder if he tried to move it. A crack shot through the Venetian air as a heavy boot stomped on his knee. Carmelo screamed. Another kick. He felt several ribs give way and flesh loosen itself. A slash of the man's wrist blades. More skin sliced from his chest. Why! Why! demanded Carmelo in his mind. Why was this happening to him?

"Puh… puhlease… signora… why are you doing this?" Carmelo looked up. Ezio held his lute in his hands. Carmelo's heart dropped.

"Signora…. I spent a years' worth of earnings on that lute. Crafting it… loving it… perfecting i-" With a thwack, Ezio swung the lute into Carmelo's head. He heard the wood creak and break as it connected with his bloodied face.

"That was for Claudia, my dear sister."

Ezio tossed the lute aside. It had splintered into a mess of strings and wood.

"And this is for my mother, you figlio di una cagna!" Ezio kicked Carmelo one last time. His foot connected with the poor boy's neck. Carmelo slumped. A paper, slightly stained blood and roughened, slipped from a torn pocket.

"What?" Ezio said as he opened it up and read it aloud. "Dear Ezio, you stupido stronzo, if you are reading this I thought you might want to know something. It was actually I who insulted Claudia and Maria while you were fighting the guards. And yes, I did hire them to kill you in castigo for your insults to the de Luca legacy. So all you did was let me get away richer and perhaps kill an innocent boy! Hah hah – sincerely, your amico Duccio de Luca. P.S. – give Claudia my regards, idioti incestuosi."

Ezio tossed the letter aside. He bent down in front of the motionless Carmelo, and felt the place where he had kicked the neck. A pulse… barely noticeable but there. Ezio breathed a sign of relief, and brushed his head.

"Phew… for a second there I was worried that I had rotto il Credo!" Ezio then looked down again at the catatonic Carmelo.

"Um… I don't really know what to say here. This is the first time anything like this has happened to me." Ezio guiltily said in a sheepish tone. He reached into his pouch. "Here… sorry for the mess. I hope this fixes things between the two of us." Ezio tossed a whole bunch of money along with a half-eaten apple onto Carmelo. His eyes darted around wildly, and he ran off hoping none of his fellows in the city like Rosa saw what had just happened.

Hours later, as the sun began to set. The sky of Venice turned brilliant crimson like falling fire. Gondolas began to make their way back to their moors, settle in for the coming of night sky. Gulls squawked, flying overhead. Ezio Auditore enjoyed a very nice bistecca dinner with his friends Rosa and Antonio and the complementing cups of imported French wine. Far away, in his Vatican fortress, Rodrigo Borgia sneered as he planted his thorns deep within the soil. Girolamo Savonarola in the southernmost district of Firenze smiled as he looked over the Apple and readied his entrance. There was laughter, the clanging of hammers in the blacksmiths, the haggling between an art merchant and a customer. Drunken sailors waltzed up and down the piers with two courtesans in their arms who sung the unruly seamen praises. A thief swiftly snatched fruit from a stall and was off before the dealer noticed. Another drunk, sense of orientation fragmented beyond repair, stumbled into the canals. And near the Campanile, Carmelo weakly lifted his eyes open. There was the clicking-clacking of heels coming towards him. Fireworks went off in his head, millions at once. His body felt like it was ready to fall apart at all seams. Every one of his teeth felt loose. He dare not move. Movement would only bring more pain. He had lost all control of his body, his arms and legs remaining limp on the ground. With his back slumped against the red wall. Why was there an apple and all these florin on him? The bastard must have put them after he had finished… he would get Ezio Carmelo swore… make him suffer as he did… Then thoughts turned to his lute and rage turned to grief. His livelihood was destroyed… it would take him forever to craft another lute that equaled that one! His eyes blinked as he weakly turned them towards the broken instrument. Why had this happened to him? He felt like crying for his mother for consolation, to the Father Son and Holy Ghost for fire of vengeance. Someone was walking towards him. With a groan, he forced all of his strength into looking upwards. Exerting himself beyond his feeble limits, he felt silky black hair drape onto his wounded face. His blood-filled eyes connected with eyes of brilliant amber before the blinking grew more rapid. He felt all strength leave him. Sorry father, he thought. Sorry I could not be the one that made our family proud. Before the world around him turned dark, he heard a woman say something to him.

"Don't worry, Carmelo. You're amongst friends now. And we will help you get your revenge." Laughter.

Then nothing.


	2. The Minstrel Rigatoni

Florence, 1497

The Bonfire of the Vanities was in full swing. Across the city, caught in fervor by the incensed ramblings of the Mad Monk, the people of Firenze burned writings and artworks of the Renaissance – the vanities in the bonfire. Amongst these vanities included music and while many citizens had been caught up in the burning fever, there were those who were desperate to cling onto the joys that the Renaissance had brought. And during this hectic period, where nine lieutenants close to the Mad Monk placed in charge of the city mysteriously went missing, one greedy minstrel named Rigatoni Pesto sought to exploit the musically-starved for a few florins.

"And now, people. Here is a song!" He quickly scratched a few notes on an out of tune lute. Amidst boos from the crowd, Rigatoni swiftly dodged a rotten tomato tossed at him. He snatched a large, heavy bag filled with coin that he and his associate minstrels had forced the attendees at lute-point pre-show to fill up with all their valuables. "And now, here goes your florin!" Cackling with glee, his associate minstrels closed an iron gate as Rigatoni Pesto fled into the alleyway. He had stored horses near the city walls and he would flee to his cousin's in Tuscany until all this had died down and his act of villainy had become forgotten.

Everything was going to plan… until he bumped directly into the mysterious hooded man.

"This whole situation sickens me... to see beautiful Firenze reduced to such levels of patetico frenesia. I have spent the entire day running around the city, killing people and having to listen to their pathetic dying words, watch these sick beings try to justify their revolting actions. Truth be told… it makes want to punch someone who deserves it in the faccia! And it seems that Dio has chosen to answer my preghiere!" At this very moment, the Assassin Ezio Auditore da Firenze took out a broomstick and brandished it very menacingly.

The Minstrel burst out into laughter. "A mere manico di scopa? You think that can defeat me, the monarca of minstelli? Um…. MINSTRELS!" He cried out at the top of his lungs. Instantly, an entire battalion of fifty minstrels burst out of the nearest haystack. Their eyes were red, blood leaking from the eyelids, and they were sneezing uncontrollably, for after all, they were minstrels very prone to allergic reactions to hay and they had been hiding in that haystack for about a month waiting for Rigatoni Pesto to give that very order.

"Grazie Gesù! Fresh air at last!" One of the minstrels croaked before he dropped unconscious. The other 49 minstrels summarily followed in suit. Standing between Ezio and Rigatoni was an increasingly red sea of comatose minstrels.

"Goddamn you, you ravioli-licking feticista famiglia! It shall take you forever to wade through my fallen compatriots though, so you shall never catch me!" Rigatoni proceeded to turn around, preparing to bolt the other direction only to see an angry mob covered in dead minstrel parts coming this way. Meanwhile, something wicked the other way came.

"This is what you get for your horrible excuse for a song!" Ezio roared as he snatched Rigatoni's lute from his hands. With broom in hand and lute in other, he swung both with ferocious strength into the sides of Rigatoni's knees. A crack filled the alleyway, echo ricocheting from wall to wall. The cheers of the crowd as they witnessed Ezio beat down the minstrel added to the chorus of passion. Tossing the lute aside, Ezio lifted the broom and repeatedly swung it down upon the minstrel's head. Soon, Rigatoni was weakly lifting his head, opening his mouth to let a flood of blood, loosened flesh, and teeth fall out. Soon after came acidic vomit, which Ezio swiftly dodged.

"And for my final trick, here is something no one can resistere!" He reached into his pack and tossed several florin onto the ground. The scattering of metal on the ground produced a unique sound that quickly reached the ears of the crowd. They scanned their eyes, and locked on the gold scattered across the near-broken body of the minstrel. Now, Rigatoni's body was about to become broken.

"Gold coins!"

"Florin!"

"It's my lucky day!"

"Wait… noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo"

On that day, Rigatoni felt his manliness go pop pop pop as the crowd trampled over him for the coin in orgasmic passion. His voice would be reduced to levels of squeakiness that had been unheard of. And there had been a nearby discarded nail near his face. As someone stepped down, his left eye met the spike. His screams, so high pitched, eventually annoyed the crowd away. Rigatoni found himself unable to move, his bones all broken. He was covered in blood, his skin torn, and what was this white and yellow stuff upon him? It definitely was not milk and limonata! Crying pathetically, Rigatoni reached up the moon.

"Fly away…. fly away… I'll escape you…." and slipped unconscious.

On the rooftop above him, two figures looked down. One was a man who had recently left behind the boy, and the other a woman.

"I don't like him. He is a shameful disgrace to my former profession."

"Neither do I. But still, he is rather stupid. And we could use all the stupid, malleable manpower we can get. You do want revenge on Ezio Auditore, don't you?"

"Yes. More than anything."

"Good, Carmelo."


	3. First Contact

Monteriggioni, 1498

After defeating the mad monk Girolamo Savonarola, Ezio Auditore da Firenze triumphantly returned from the liberated Florence to his restful Tuscany stronghold: Monteriggioni. But the time for relaxation was scarce! For while he was busy in Forli slaying the Orsi brothers and then busier slaying Savonarola and his nine lieutenants who remained anonymous, his archenemy Rodrigo Borgia had ascended to the papacy! But Ezio was worried, no! He knew what he had to do. He would storm Roma and slay the man behind the death of Papa Auditore and his two bros at long last – yes, he totally would not have a sudden change of heart and become too mature for revenge since that would be a catastrophic mistake! Who would be boneheaded enough to leave their enemy, who was the most powerful man in all of Europa, alive? Especially if he headed the Templars, that other big EVIL! secret organization that battled the Assassins, a big secret organization who were totally GOOD! guys. Definitely not him, dashing Ezio Auditore!

One day, Ezio was admiring the paintings he had brought in Venice with money he had stolen from a cheating husband he had beaten up! On that day, he had heard rumors of a Templar plot to poison the water supply of a frontier town, but he knew that he had greater priorities than to investigate insubstantial chitchats! Yes, beating up otherwise innocent adulterers and delivering mail truly benefitted the Assassins much more than unwinding Templar schemes! As he gazed over a lady holding an ermine, he suddenly heard the voice of his uncle Mario calling for him.

"Ezio, come quick! Your inventor friend has once again shown his brilliance!"

Ezio rushed to the kitchen, where Uncle Mario was. He could hardly contain his eager excitement, that charming Ezio Auditore! Leonardo had cooked up so many fantastic contraptions for Ezio these past years! The double hidden blades, the hidden gun, and even the bombastic flying machine – oh golly, Ezio pulsed with exhilaration as he thought of whatever, oh whatever wonderful miracle Leonardo had crafted this time! But as soon as he stepped into the kitchen – his anticipation surely did plummet, that contemptuous Ezio Auditore!

"Che cazzo è questa merda?" Ezio demanded as he stormed to a table that had been set up. Leonardo set at that table, a great platter of food set up in front of him. Uncle Mario and sister Claudia sat by Leonardo's sides, smiling. "I come in thinking that you have invented an un'arma inarrestabile to use in the storming of Roma and I instead come in to find you playing with your food like a stupido idiota!"

"Come on now, nephew, give him a chance. Leonardo's genius need not be applied to violento pursuits. After all, nothing is true and everything is permitted."

"I know… but this… this is rifiuti!"

"Anyways, Ezio, it all started when I accidentally dropped my fork and your uncle clumsily stepped on it before I could pick it up." Leonardo began to explain, reenacting the scenario. "I was awfully distraught, as that was my last clean utensile. But then, I eyed these fresh loafs of bread that your mother had prepared. With quick thinking, and the aid of Mario's blade, we carved up two pieces of bread large enough to…"

Mario cut two slices from a loaf, in a circular shape. Not too thick, nor too wide. Leonardo took one of the slices, and he set it in front of him. On top he first added some of the vegetables on his plate – a slice of tomato, some onions, and a lettuce leaf. Next, he placed on top the produce a large slab of meat that was brown all over the exterior but pink throughout. On top the meat he put a hunk of provolone and covered it up with the other slice of bread. On both sides of the bread Leonardo had slathered mysterious red, yellow, and white sauces.

"Ta-dah!"

"What is that monstrosity?" Ezio asked, peering in disgust.

"I don't know what I shall call it yet. But I know that it will very well revolutionize the way that we eat our food!" Leonardo proclaimed and then stroked his beard in thought. "A-ha! I got it… I shall call it the Auditore, named after my good friends who helped me discover this innovation! Ezio, would you care for a bite of Il Formaggio Auditore?"

"Uh, I'll save it. Try it… later." Ezio motioned for a servant to come over. The two of them walked to the far end of the kitchen, out of Leonardo's earshot. "Throw this… this abominio to the pigs. I do not think that it is fit for consumption by anything greater."

"Anything useful, Leonardo? Like perhaps a hidden gun that fires spade?" Ezio asked.

"Well, after we had consumed our Il Formaggio Auditores, I sat down with your uncle and started thinking. Other than using it to cleanly consume our food when no utensils are available, what else could we use bread for? Then it hit me!"

Mario pulled out a disc of flat bread, very thin and wide. There was a thin layer of mozzarella and faint traces of tomato sauce. Sprinkled across the top of the cheese were various vegetables and meats.

"You know what I hate about plates after supper, Ezio? Cleaning them. But this innovazione shall insure no more fruitless struggles to get plates can again, for instead of washing upon the end of a meal you can simply consume the plate! And to streamline consumption, take a look!" Mario used his sword to cut the disc into eight triangular pieces of identical size. Leonardo took one of the pieces by the rim and took a bit of the tip.

"Eureka! Soon, we shall eliminate the needs for plates and silverware altogether."

Ezio shook his head. Without saying a word, he left his far more enthusiastic kin and Leonardo behind. He headed for the door. He needed some fresh air, after witnessing all this lunacy. What blasphemy was this? Bread used to hold other food which would be eaten by holding the bread and taking a bite? No, Leonardo definitely had not stumbled upon an innovation. It was nothing more than a fad of a madman, and one that was sure to die out. How could it last – eating food with fingers like that was barbaric! He would take a stroll around town, see how much it had grown before he departed to finish the business he had started when he put on his father's robes and assassinated the traitor Uberto Alberti. Perhaps a few rounds with his combat trainer and an inspection of the armaments on the walls. He would top it off with a visit to the brothels… but then he quickly waved that thought from his mind. After what had become of Christina in Florence… he would need a few months or so before he was ready for that sort of interaction again.

But all pleasant thoughts drifted from Ezio's mind when he saw what was right on the front porch of his mansion.

Five minstrels, each holding a different instrument in one hand and a bucket of paint in the other. When they saw Ezio, their eyes lit and shot up. The minstrel in the center stepped forward. There was some uncanny sort of familiarity that he evoked in Ezio as the Assassin laid eyes upon him. But the Assassin couldn't place exactly what it was. You see, Ezio had done "business" with many a minstrel and over the course of time they had all blended into a single amalgamation. He spoke with a shrill, high pitched voice, even higher than a squeaky young woman's.

"That's him, fellow menestrellli! The musical talent detractor who has made our collective lives un inferno vivente! Let's do this!"

He paused for dramatic effect. Then screamed so irritably and stridently that Ezio covered his eyes and swore louder than he had ever in his life.

"IT'S PERFORMIN' TIME!"

Each of the minstrels then screamed something out, and when they did so, they lifted the bucket over themselves so that paint would envelop their entire body. According to writings which have since been forgotten and scattered amongst the dust, it went a little something like this. Fortunately for Ezio, the remaining four were of a normal pitch.

"Power of flute! Limoncello Digestivo, menestrello nero!"

"Power of gamba! Lasagna Bolognese, menestrello blu!"

"Power of cornamuse! Cappuccino Espresso, menestrello giallo!"

"Power of hurdy-gurdy! Aglio Salame, menestrello rosa!"

"Power of lute! Rigatoni Pesto, menestrello rosso!"

The five of them, dripping in paint, brandished their instruments menacingly as they tapped and hopped into formation.

"Minstrels Potenza... go go!"

And they rushed Ezio.

"Well, this day has certainly taken a turn for the surreal." Ezio commented as he drew out the Sword of Altair.


	4. Leonardo Invents The Food Fight

"Hah! Hah!" Ezio laughed as he saw the minstrels rushing at him. "You filthy minstrels really think you can stand up to me, the most interesting man in everyone's life? Look, I don't even need a blade to kill you!" He fired the hidden gun at the Red Minstrel, grinning eagerly as he anticipated the drumming of shrapnel into flesh as the bullet made contact. But to his shock, the Red Minstrel leapt just as the bullet was about to hit. In the split fraction of a millisecond, the Red Minstrel planted his foot on the bullet. Using the transfer of momentum, the Red Minstrel did a backflip into the air and kicked the bullet back at Ezio. Ezio dove for cover, dodging the bullet, and responded with a flurry of throwing knifes. To his shock, the Pink Minstrel dove in and caught all of the knives in the strings of his lute and with the twanging of a few strings he fired the knives back at Ezio.

Ezio ran for cover again. Taking a quick breath, he readied his hidden blade for a changing tackle kill. But before he could make it to the Red Minstrel, the Black Minstrel raised his flute and spit out a series of small needles at Ezio. They snagged his cape and shot him backwards, pinning him to a wall. The Yellow Minstrel was upon him, using his cornamuse like a staff to repeatedly smack Ezio across his chest and head. Ezio spat out several gallons of blood as the Yellow Minstrel temporarily withdrew his beating.

"Now you know what it feels like to be one of us, figlio di puttana!" The Yellow Minstrel spat in the Assassin's face.

"Nonsenso! I was just going easy on you!" Ezio, heaving with all his strength outward, wrenched himself free ripping his cape in the process. He threw his foot upward. The Yellow Minstrel was temporarily incapacitated, writhing in pain on the ground.

"See what I mean?" Ezio said as he prepared to stab his sword downward. But suddenly, there was a loud bang and the sword was sent flying from his hands. In mid-air, as it fell, the sword had become enveloped in a binding net. The Red Minstrel was loading another net projectile into the interior of his hurdy-gurdy.

"Damn you!" Ezio cursed and grabbed a handful of dirt. He tossed it at the Red Minstrel, blinding him. But before he could move to finish the Red Minstrel off, the Pink Minstrel was upon him again. The Pink Minstrel struck his strings in a certain order, and from the top of his lute a blade popped out. He swung the killer lute at Ezio, who blocked it with his hidden blade bracers. Parrying a blow, he lunged at the Pink Minstrel with the hidden blade, but the Pink Minstrel grabbed his arm and started to push it back. The Pink Minstrel bared his mouth apart like a wolf, showing that all his teeth had been replaced by filed metal points.

"Remember me, Ezio? I am Rigatoni Pesto and you took my manliness from me! So I shall take your life in kind!" But Ezio's strength won out, and with a slice of the hidden blade, off went Rigatoni's nose.

"What… what… what Cazzo! Cazzo! Cazzo! I need my nose to smell all the beautiful Firenze prosituta!" The Pink Minstrel wheeled away clutching his bleeding face. Suddenly, Ezio heard the sound of gamba. He wheeled his attention to the Blue Minstrel who was playing the instrument. As his playing grew louder, ropes sprouted out of the instrument. The Blue Minstrel used his music to command the ropes to ensnare Ezio.

"Ropes? Are you serious? You forget that I have a cento blades on me!" In less than a deci-second, Ezio had freed himself and had stepped over to the Blue Minstrel. Talking the man's bow, he slammed the man's head into the gamba and started to strangle the Blue Minstrel with the bow. Unexpectedly, the Yellow Minstrel had recovered and swung the cornamuse in a sweeping arc that blasted Ezio away. Recovering, the Assassin had stumbled to his feet. The Minstrels had gathered, and the Red Minstrel was making a speech.

"It seems that Ezio has become too much for each of us to individually handle! This calls for only one soluzione, fellow menestrelli!"

Pausing for dramatic effect, he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Form the Megabanda!"

The Minstrels got into a formation and began to play a song so horrid that even describing it in any capacity with mere words and not music would cause any normal man to go mad and gouge his own eyeballs out after dismembering his earbuds. Ezio was no normal man – for he was an Assassin, part of many gifted bloodlines that would one day converge into… mediocrity in a hoodie. But that is a story for another day, and to tell it in any sort would go far beyond the budget that has been granted for The Minstrels' Revenge. Ezio, as such, was not killed on the spot. He was only paralyzed, unable to move or speak. Even his mind was a blank struggling to piece itself back together.

The Minstrels laughed merrily, and began to beat the defenseless Ezio. They had taken out sacks of florin and were dumping the coins on him. Each drop of metal hurt like the sting of a thousand angry hornets. The Minstrels had raised each of their instruments, ready to deliver a finishing blow. But then they heard an angry voice.

"Hey! Nobody does that to my friend!"

"Hey, isn't that Leonardo da Vinci, the famous painter?"

"Ooh, I'm so paura! Ooh, Leonardo, what are you going to do? Paint on us?"

"Better yet… you shall know the wrath of a man angered at lunchtime!" Leonardo threw the flatbread at the Blue Minstrel who was so shocked by this sudden turn of events that he did not lift his large instrument to block it. Instead, he just stood there and inevitably, the flatbread disc had decapitated him. As his headless body, spurting blood in a heavens-high fountain collapsed, the other Minstrels collectively merda i pantaloni.

"Mario! Your turn!" Leonardo called.

"Huh?" asked the Yellow Minstrel as he heard heavy steps coming from behind. But before he knew what hit him, Uncle Mario Auditore had swung two loafs of bread so stale into opposite sides of his head so firmly that his head was crushed. A sick hissing sound followed as he slumped to the ground, one eyeball popped and the other rolling away. Bits of brain were leaking out of many open cracks in his exposed skull.

"Nooo! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!" The Black Minstrel was preparing to shoot his flute at Mario but Mario leapt up in the air, dodging the projectile. As the Black Minstrel prepared to fire again, Mario had landed onto his head, pounding him to the ground. Taking the Black Minstrel's flute, Mario lodged it deeply in his mouth, ending somewhere in the throat. Mario then put somewhere extremely hot peppers in his mouth and blew in the other end of the flute. The peppers were grinded up as they entered the flute and the full power of the devastating juices came out on the outside. The Black Minstrel screamed as his insides were literally cooked and he joined the dead.

"No man can defeat me!" The Red Minstrel asserted as he blasted back deadly foodstuffs thrown at him by Mario and Leonardo.

"Then how about a woman try!" Claudia yelled as she strangled him to expiry from behind with several long and thick fettuccini noodles. "It's about time I got to do something…" she said to the shocked Leonardo and Mario. "Hey. You try doing nothing but keeping a book and occasionally seeing your brother for several years!"

The trio turned their attention to the last standing Minstrel, the Pink one.

"I assume you know what this is?" Mario asked as he took out a broomstick.

"Oh God nonononononono pleasepleasepleaseplease show me misericordia-ow!" Mario smacked the broom into his buttocks so hard they instantly collapsed upon themselves, knocking all the paint literally off of the Pink Minstrel leaving him just a normal minstrel.

"No one hurts my brother but me!" Claudia cursed the minstrel and took the broom from her uncle. With a mighty swing, Claudia smacked the minstrel and sent him blasting off. Every time he landed, the force and recoil were so high that he was sent bouncing back all the way to Firenze, devastating his insides and personal parts even further.

"That should be the last we see of them." Claudia reassured Ezio as she helped her brother up. Ezio was shaking, trying to make sense of the madness that just happened. That could not have been any skill! It was definitely sorcery that had imbued these minstrels with their fearsome strength.

"L-l-leonardo, I am s-s-sorry for doubting you." Ezio apologized for his doubting of the many uses of food in the last chapter that Leonardo had discovered.

"Don't worry, old friend. It's all the past!"

Ezio clung onto his sister as she led him back to his room for recovery. The experience, the sensation, embarrassed them both greatly. "Don't tell mother about this, Claudia. The loss of father and our brothers may have broken her heart, but this will definitely break her mind."

"What would you be willing to do for that silence, brother?" Claudia asked, with a slight smile on her face forming as her mind started to cook up some devious thoughts.


	5. Set-up for a Bunch of Violence Next Chap

The city is Roma. It is a beautiful city, having the time of its life during the peak of human enlightenment. But that merely the deceptive physiognomy of Roma. Beneath the surface lies something far more sinister. It is a city that beckons with a seductive smile, a city that promises to reward ambition and intelligence for anyone who chooses to pursue its many pathways. A city that drowns infants and laughs, parents who eat their own children with a smile, and a retching account of sleaze. The Templars have been rotted, any idealistic beliefs they could have held, wiped away by the Borgia corruption. But there comes a hope. For a Borgia, desperate to defend the family honor, has crossed blades with the wrong man. Killed the wrong people and destroyed the wrong towns. Now, Ezio Auditore, the bright light in this sea of despair, rides to Roma.

But that is not the story to be told. For there is only so much pretentious narration one can handle. Critics may hail the artistic merits of such narration, but is there little enjoyment for pretentious narration to be found in a story labeled as a parody? Perhaps if pretentious narration is used to mock pretentious narration, but that is a task far too clever and daunting for the new writer who has been assigned to this story. So as such, for your enjoyment, the rest of the story shall be trash. And very terrible trash, for nothing else would be more suitable. He wouldn't have it any other way. Yes everybody, Hilden B. Lade (author of the original Minstrel's Revenge. Read it here: s/9076811/1/The-Minstrel-s-Revenge)of Jack Sphenicisdae services is back and taking over writing duties for the rest of the story. As such, the original story plan has been altered to suit his intended narrative.

So where were we? Ah yes, Roma. Something about ugliness underneath a beautiful appearance. Yes, that pointless introductory paragraph being all serious in a story about Ezio fighting superpowered minstrels or whatever crap the writer pulls out of his ass next. So we jump to two of the characters in our story who are neither Ezio nor minstrels. But they are pivotal to this narrative nonetheless.

To clarify timeline matters, this and the following chapters shall take place close to or after the events of Assassin's Creed: Brotherhood.

* * *

"I sometimes think that you have tired of the cause that you started." The man with the blood-cracked eyes and disfigured face started deeply into the interior of the iron mask before he put it over his face. When his voice spoke, it was coarse. As if someone had ripped out his vocal chords, jumbled them around, before cramming them back into the throat. Unlike the other men in the hidden base, he did not dress in colorful garb of the Renaissance. He carried no instruments converted into weaponry. He kept things basic. Dark, drab clothing. Gauntlets and blades crafted of gleaming steel. Once upon a time, he had been an enterprising student of the musical arts. But those years were long past. The man had spent what felt like eons retraining himself in new abilities. "Mistress, do pardon me for asking, but you promised us all revenge. And that revenge is nowhere clear in sight. Especially with the death of the latest incarnation of your so-called 'minstrels with attitudine' turning up grievously mutilated in the streets of Roma."

"Carmelo, Carmelo." Her voice, extremely accented. But all who heard it heard it differently. It had been interpreted as Italian, French, English, Spanish, and many more that could not be identified. "You have no grasp of patience. We must wear down our enemy first. Lull him into a false sense of security and confidence with these foraggi cannone. Then, when he faces our truly experienced ones, we strike."

"He's catching on, do you know? Already, he has reencountered Rigatoni Pesto. Pesto surrendered in less than a second and disclosed the locations of several important safehouses! Who knows how many other Rigatonis are in our brotherhood? Before we know it, he and those assassini cazzo shall be upon our doorstep. I say we storm their poco clubhouse on Tiber and be done with it! We must take Ezio's head before it is too late!" Carmelo slammed his steel-clad fist on the table, knocking down several fruits. The Mistress shook her head, picking up the fallen food.

"You had the offer multiple times to join the Minstrels on their attacks against Ezio. Yet, you rejected the identities of Menestrello Verde, Menestrello Bianco, and Menestrello D'Oro when I asked you. You claimed that you no longer saw fit to battle alongside your former brothers with the loss of your ability to sing. Or are you just afraid of Ezio, and would rather they all die before you?"

"Do not accuse me of that. I train vigorously every day. To ensure that when the day comes, I will be able to watch him beg for mercy before I force him to kill all his loved ones and feast upon the splendido heartbreak in his eyes before I torture him to death as he tortured me!"

"Ah. But leaving behind evidence of your bitterness such as all those broken mirrors in your room paints a different sort of picture regarding your character and your intents."

"I break my mirrors to remind myself every day of what he took from me."

Their conversation was interrupted by the door to the dining chamber frantically slamming open. A beaten Minstrel, his eyes blackened and all teeth missing except for one, his tongue pulled out and wrapped around his throat, collapsed in front of them panting.

"What happened?" Carmelo asked. "Was it that bastardo Ezio again?"

"No, not Ezio…" The minstrel cried. "Banker and his lover f-f-f-or… amusement… paid the guards and set them on m-m-mee…" Then he died.

"Carmelo. Now is your chance. Prove that you are still dedicated to the organizzazione of Persecuted Minstrels Against Mean Assassins by taking out the vermin who have followed Ezio's examples."

"As I will, Mistress." Carmelo cloaked his head, showing nothing but the glint of cold red eyes behind the slits in the iron mask. He rose, metal-lined boots clacking on the stone floor. His steel fists clenched with years of boiling fury at the hand the world had dealt him. He was no longer that same boy from Forli who sought to make his living on music. Now, he had become a man who had dedicated his life to protecting those he perceived as prosecuted from their prosecutors. Steel hands reached for weaponry. The cloaked figure menacingly, almost leisurely in his movement, strolled from the dining room to the exit. His shadow grew larger as he walked until at last he was set loose into the streets of an unsuspecting city.

"Ah. The Spirito di Vendetta walks at last. The plan continues as it has all been mapped out." The Mistress smiled and crossed her legs, biting into an apple as she gazed at the dead minstrel on the floor. Already a fly had landed on his tongue.


End file.
